The sun hung high in the sky, a relentless blaze that painted golden streaks across the restless waves. The light shimmered and fractured where the water broke, as though the ocean were hiding secrets beneath its glassy surface. The rhythmic crash of the tide should have been calming. It usually was. The beach had always been my place of escape, the one place where I could breathe beyond the walls of home, beyond the invisible weight of my mother's fears.
But today, something felt… off.
Mom and I had set up our little haven: two mismatched folding chairs dug into the sand, an umbrella tilted just enough to shield us from the worst of the sun, and a cooler stuffed with snacks and bottled water. The air was thick with salt and sunscreen, laughter of playing children drifting across the breeze like a melody too carefree to belong to me.
"This was a great idea," I admitted, stretching my arms toward the sky, trying to mimic the gulls wheeling above. "The beach always makes me feel… free."
Mom smiled, her face softening as she passed me a cold bottle of water from the cooler. The condensation clung to my skin. "I know, sweetheart. That's why I suggested it. You should enjoy yourself before college swallows you whole."
Her voice carried a note of pride, but also that undercurrent quiet, taut, heavy that she never seemed to lose.
I twisted the cap open, taking a long sip. College. Freedom. A new chapter. That was all I had been dreaming of for months. But sitting here, waves rolling, sunlight blazing, something gnawed at me. Something foreign.
It was as if the air itself had shifted.
As if I was being watched.
The thought slithered across my mind uninvited, and with it came a chill that had no business belonging to this summer heat. I swallowed hard, forcing my gaze to sweep the beach.
Tourists sprawled across towels, their voices carrying in bursts of laughter. Children shrieked as they chased one another with plastic buckets. Surfers bobbed like seals beyond the break, waiting for the right swell.
A family labored over a crooked sandcastle doomed to be swallowed by the next eager wave.
Normal.
Ordinary.
Innocent.
And yet…
My skin prickled, a phantom weight pressing against the back of my neck. Every instinct screamed that eyes lingered on me, following my every breath. The sensation crawled over my spine, urgent, insistent.
Run.
Leave.
Now.
I dug my toes into the sand, grounding myself, shaking off the ridiculous thought. Get it together, Tasha.
"I'm going for a walk," I said suddenly, rising before the heaviness in my chest suffocated me.
Mom shaded her eyes with her hand, suspicion flickering in her gaze. "Stay where I can see you."
I waved her off, trying to mask the tightness in my chest with nonchalance. "Yeah, yeah." My feet carried me down the shoreline, each step sinking into damp sand.
The tide rushed in, foamy fingers brushing my ankles before retreating again, as though daring me to step closer. The wind tugged at my hair, flinging strands across my face, but the unease clung stubbornly, coiling tighter.
Then I saw it.
A shape carved into the sand, waiting just ahead.
A symbol.
Its lines were too sharp, too deliberate to be born of chance. No child's doodle, no accidental scrawl of a stick dragged by the wind. This was precise. Intricate swirls wove into jagged edges, the geometry perfect in a way no human hand could casually produce.
It pulsed.
Not with light, but with presence. The grooves were impossibly dark against the pale sand, like they had been burned into the earth itself.
I stopped short, my pulse hammering in my ears.
It looked ancient.
And somewhat familiar.
Though I couldn't explain how. My breath hitched as I crouched, one trembling hand reaching forward, against every sane impulse in me.
The moment my fingertips brushed the pattern, a sharp shock seared up my arm.
I gasped, stumbling back, cradling my hand as invisible sparks fizzed across my skin. The air seemed to thicken, vibrating, alive.
Beneath the symbol, the sand darkened, sinking, shifting, as if something stirred beneath the surface.
And then…
Eyes.
Golden.
Luminous.
Piercing.
They flickered from within the grains themselves, locking onto me with an intensity that rooted me to the spot.
A guttural growl rumbled low and primal, vibrating through the air, through the marrow of my bones.
I spun around, my breath shallow, and searching.
The beach was unchanged.
Children shrieked with joy. Vendors called out their sales. Waves rose and fell with timeless rhythm.
No one else noticed. No one else reacted.
But I did.
My fists clenched, trembling. This wasn't imagination.
It wasn't a dream.
Something was here.
Something saw me.
I stumbled back, forcing my legs to obey, to retreat toward Mom as casually as I could manage. My face burned with the effort of pretending I wasn't unraveling inside.
But with each step, I felt it.
The weight of unseen eyes, pressing, and burning, heavy against my back.
That night, exhaustion swallowed me, but sleep offered no peace.
My mind became a storm of restless fragments waves, golden eyes, the symbol burned into sand.
When the dream finally came, it wasn't a dream at all.
I stood in a forest.
The trees stretched endlessly into the night sky, their trunks impossibly wide, their crowns merging into darkness. Shadows curled at their roots like smoke, alive, watching. The air was damp, carrying a weight that clung to my skin.
And then I heard it.
A voice.
"Tasha…"
The sound slid across the wind, deep and resonant, as though the forest itself whispered my name.
I turned, but only darkness shifted.
"Come to me…"
The voice carried authority, threaded with power. My blood turned to ice, but my body trembled not just from fear. Something else rippled beneath my skin.
Recognition.
Then…
The golden eyes.
They burned through the void, twin embers locked onto me, fierce and unyielding.
I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. My body was a prisoner to something greater.
The shadows stirred, curling inward, weaving into form.
A figure emerged. Tall. Broad. A presence that eclipsed everything around him. The air itself seemed to bow beneath his weight, his aura a thunderclap.
A Lycan.
The word carved itself into my mind with certainty I shouldn't have had.
Power radiated from him in waves, crackling through the air, making my skin buzz, my chest constrict. He stepped closer, each movement deliberate, each gaze a strike.
My lips trembled. "Who are you?"
No answer.
But his mouth moved, and though no sound escaped, the words threaded directly into my mind, whispering, binding, searing.
You are mine.
The words wrapped around me like chains of fire, searing, undeniable.
I woke with a violent gasp, lungs clawing for air. My sheets clung to my skin, damp with sweat.
Heat.
It surged through my veins, flooding every limb, unnatural, consuming. My body burned from the inside out, feverish but alive in a way I couldn't comprehend.
I stumbled from bed, gripping the dresser for balance, my breath ragged.
Something was wrong.
Or… something was beginning.
I forced myself toward the mirror.
Wide eyes stared back at me, wild and panicked. My reflection trembled with me, but then…
For the briefest heartbeat…
A flicker of gold flared in my irises.
I froze, throat tightening.
I blinked, hard.
And it was gone.
But the imprint of it lingered, seared into me.
My fingers dug into the edge of the dresser, knuckles white. My heart thudded with a rhythm not entirely mine. My entire body hummed, as though some unseen current had taken residence beneath my skin.
Something had awakened.
And whatever it was…